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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26656753">Bored, stoned, sitting in your basement</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodloser/pseuds/goodloser'>goodloser</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Quit Stuntin [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aftercare, Asphyxiation, Consent Issues, Creampie, Heavy Petting, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Under-negotiated Kink</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:54:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,817</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26656753</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodloser/pseuds/goodloser</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Drag Strip frags Dead End, but he's such a dumbass he doesn't realise consent is even a thing and takes it a little too far.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dead End/Drag Strip (Transformers)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Quit Stuntin [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1924132</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Bored, stoned, sitting in your basement</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i like drag strip being an absolutely jerk lmao</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Dead End wished he could even remember what was on this datapad — a novel, an essay maybe, a joke compilation — who even knew, because it was impossible to focus on it with Drag Strip’s determination to worm his way into his lap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Literally.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on,” Drag Strip moaned as he tried once again to nose his way into Dead End’s very-not-open arms. “We’re the only ones here today. Let’s have some fun, y’know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No thanks.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sheesh. You’re such a bore.” But Drag Strip continued on, snaking his fingers into Dead End’s vents. Dead End shivered and tried to push him off, although there was no real feeling behind it. “No fun whatsoever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Har har.” Dead End finally relented and put down his pad. “Alright. Lay it on me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s it? Gee, you put up a fight, huh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are we doing this or not.” He laid down and got himself settled, adjusting until he felt comfortable. From down there, Drag Strip could leer at him all he wanted, and he did just that. He traced a light finger across Dead End’s chestplates.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna wreck you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dead End stared up at him, but his EM field pulsed with affirmation and he pushed an expectant feeling to him over the bond link. Drag Strip went back to feeling around vents. One of his hands teased through transformation seams as he moved it up and came to rest at Dead End’s shoulder to give his tire a firm squeeze. Dead End leant into the touch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You ought to bring me to overload.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on. When do I ever not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Last time —”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, it isn’t my fault you’re so fragging hot.” Drag Strip applied pressure to Dead End’s tire, and his fingers crawled down to drum against his rims before moving to pluck at wiring. He brought his other hand down and began playing with Dead End’s switch-like kibble, where he wiped around its edges in feather-light touches. The pads of his fingers hooked under the lip and explored there. Dead End shuddered. “Sensitive? Cute.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve never been touched there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t explore your own body?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why would I do that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To find your own hot spots. Like this one.” And Drag Strip pressed against a cluster of wires and again Dead End jerked. He moved his hips slightly across the floor, and lifted up the leg furthest from Drag Strip so he could spread them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s all this? You’re getting eager.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be quiet, Strip. Everything you say is supremely unattractive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, I can dirty talk like the best of them.” Now Drag Strip had abandoned the wheel and ducked down to lick a stripe up Dead End’s valve scene. “You know, you always taste so clean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How is that… Alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He repeated the motion and his other hand, still buried in Dead End’s kibble port, headed south to paw at the wiring on the bottom of it rather than the top. He moved his hands roughly into the wiring there as if fingerfucking it. Dead End gasped out. He reached down. “Stop, stop, you’re overstimulating me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drag Strip shook his head and put his tongue to the kibble. He nibbled and mouthed along its edges, then tried to reach the underside of the port around it. “Wow, it’s not even dusty in here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I prefer to keep myself clean, thank you very much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My polished little End.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dead End looked at him over the edge of his bust. “I’m bigger than you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drag Strip just hummed and palmed at Dead End’s cover. He returned to dragging his tongue catlike over Dead End’s valve seams, and hoisted Dead End’s legs around his shoulders in a display that was looking exceedingly erotic. Drag Strip even flicked open Dead End’s latch with his tongue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Okay, Dead End had to admit that was a good move).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hummed again and put his nose near his entrance. “Wanna see what else this tongue can do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can it stop talking?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No can do, Chief.” He licked another stripe up it, and then stuck his tongue into Dead End’s valve, who squirmed. “Metallic. It’s a little like motor oil.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swiped his tongue up and down Dead End’s lips and nibbled on them as gently as he could. He gave Dead End’s clit a small suck. There was sudden pressure on his head as Dead End grabbed the top of it and tried to push him down, moaning all the while.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Think you could take two of us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wh… what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At the same time. Me on top, pumping you, Wildrider underneath you, you know he’s pretty big for his class. Or we could do it with Downer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The imagery was… appealing. Dead End shuddered and turned his head, thinking of being stuffed wide open and overwhelmed until he was a moaning, shaking mess. “M-maybe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drag Strip continued eating him out, teasing his clit as he pushed two lithe fingers inside and admired Dead End’s quivering walls. He tried to make quick work of stretching him out; he definitely wasn’t the biggest bot, but now he was getting worked up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dead End whispered, “frag, Strip.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Moan for me. Let me hear that desperate voice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t want to make any embarrassing noises, so instead he slapped a hand over his vocaliser. Drag Strip caught on quicklike. “Come on. Do I gotta tie you up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Beg.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Strip, I’m — I’m getting impatient, so please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please </span>
  <em>
    <span>what?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Put.” Dead End looked shyly away, at a corner of the room. “I want your spike in me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm.” Drag Strip pressured his own spike and gave it a few cursory strokes. He swiped open his other panel too, and used his own lubrication to coat his spike. “I’m using my own lubrication. It’s gonna be in you now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dead End moaned and twisted. Drag Strip pushed into him in one smooth, impressive stroke. “There. Yesss.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He soon started a fast, typical Drag Strip pace of pounding into Dead End, his hands gripping his hips tightly. “Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>End.</span>
  </em>
  <span> You’re always so tight, y’know that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dead End just nodded dumbly. He soon found himself with his arms hoisted up above his head, Drag Strip’s hands holding them together at the wrist. He tutted. “You’re mine now.” The metal creaked as Drag Strip worked his hips in an uneven fashion, at some point stopping to really push their panels together and stirred his spike around inside Dead End. Dead End moaned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what I like to hear. Your slutty voice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I am not —”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Course you are.” Drag Strip smirked and looked down at him. He gave a particularly hard thrust (Dead End twitched and cried out) and leant down to press his lips to Dead End’s mask. “You’ll put out for anyone, am I right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dead End popped his spike panel. Drag Strip’s smirk only widened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, you enjoying this? You like ‘em big, or what? Ever thought about trying to take Motors?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I —” (maybe that’d been a lie).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’d crush you. You won’t be able to walk for a week. And this.” He reached down to take Dead End’s spike delicately in between three fingers. His thrusting transmitted vibrations down his arm. Dead End squirmed. “Your little spike’s so tiny.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Dead End froze as best he could while currently getting fucked hard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look at it. I bet I wouldn’t even feel it.” Drag Strip gave another hard push of his hips and he watched Dead End’s opticorbs roll back into his head with satisfaction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Dead End found he could talk again, he moaned out, “Strip. Stop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah. Come on, you’re enjoying it. Want me to ‘face you in front of the others?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I —”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then they can see what a worthless fragtoy you are. Good for nothing else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can type you up and let them use you anyway they’ll like. You’ll love it, won’tcha? Mindless drone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drag Strip put his hands around Dead End’s neck and squeezed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He came inside him with quick grunts. Dead End’s visor went wide as he felt transfluid swilling around inside him and he struggled to get his hands free. His fans spun hot, heavy, and loud. Drag Strip’s own visor tightened as he quickened his movements even further, trying to pack more transfluid in and get Dead End to overload before he came down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dead End’s back arched and he keened and writhed against Drag Strip’s collapsing chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drag Strip’s own fans vented. He wiped steam off of his face and looked down at him, propped up with one elbow. “That was pretty fun, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dead End blinked and reset his optics. His mind still felt blank. He stared at the ceiling as if he could make out writing on it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he slapped Drag Strip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ow?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get off of me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh? What’s your problem?” Drag Strip pinched his helm kibble and Dead End growled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t want you to say any of those things. I asked you to stop and you continued anyway. Get off of me right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drag Strip pulled out, suddenly feeling tired. He didn’t want to have to deal with this prissy idiot. “What’s the big deal? You liked it, anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No I didn’t. The big deal is you breached my trust and consent. Move.” Dead End pushed at his chest and shut his panels. “I am going to my room.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sheesh,” Drag Strip muttered to himself and scratched his audials. “Fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He headed to the washracks to clean himself up, and then set himself down in front of the TV. But it nagged at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>[Breakdown? Can I ask you a question?]</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>[Umm… What about?]</span>
  </em>
  <span> Breakdown nerved back. </span>
  <em>
    <span>[It’s not going to be weird or scary is it?]</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>[Dead End’s mad at me. I don’t like it.]</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>[What did you do?]</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Motormaster’s voice burst across the line. </span>
  <em>
    <span>[Breakdown, optics on the mission. Drag Strip, what did you do?]</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>[Dead End said I ‘breached his trust and consent’ or whatever stupid thing.]</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Motormaster’s voice went quiet, which was never ever a good thing. A chill ran down Drag Strip’s strut. </span>
  <em>
    <span>[What. Did you do.]</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>[We were playing around and I guess I upset him by… I was just saying some stuff to him and he whined at me to cut it out but I didn’t. I mean, he liked it, so whatever, right?]</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>[Strip…] </span>
  </em>
  <span>Breakdown moaned. </span>
  <em>
    <span>[Did you not ask him if you could do that?]</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>[You need to ask?]</span>
  </em>
  <span> Drag Strip was genuinely confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>[Yes! How do you not know this?]</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>[Drag Strip. I am goin’ to beat a new hole into your aft when we get back.]</span>
  </em>
  <span> Motormaster grumbled. </span>
  <em>
    <span>[Go say you’re sorry right the slag now before I rub your nose into it.]</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>[How do I do that? Help me out here, Downer.]</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>[Um, you should bring him a cube or coolant and make him feel comfortable. That’s the other part of kink stuff, you have to care for them after and make sure they’re okay.]</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>[Huh. ‘Kay, I’ll try that out. See you in a bit. Sorry I hurt your boyfriend, Motors.]</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>[You are gonna get —]</span>
  </em>
  <span> Drag Strp clicked off his comms before he could hear just exactly what he was gonna get.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He fetched a cube of energon and a bottle of coolant from his room, and stepped up in front of the door with them piled up in his arms as he knocked with his foot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go away.” Dead End’s voice came sullen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I want to talk to you. I, er, brought you some stuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What stuff?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Energon and coolant.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a pregnant pause, but Dead End commanded the door to open. He was curled up on his berth with his arms brought up to his knees. He swiped the cube from Drag Strip as soon as he got close enough, pulled a straw from subspace, and diverted his inlet to his coolant tank to drink by actuating the internal valves in his system. He sipped it all down with fervour. Then he stared at the corner of his berth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re such an aft,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, End, I’m sorry. Honestly.” Drag Strip pulled his favourite blanket from his system to hand it over. “You can have this. It’s soft. I like, didn’t know or whatever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That you have to arrange these things prior?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dead End shook his head and laughed weakly. “You really are an idiot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you hurt?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My feelings are.” He hesitated. “Nevermind. What a softy thing to say. It doesn’t matter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, hello? Yes it does.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It really doesn’t, Drag Strip. What you did doesn’t matter. It doesn’t affect anyone but me, and the universe doesn’t care about that anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I care, you big afthead.” Drag Strip moved to sit next to him, but thought better of it. “Um… Can I sit down? Next to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Don’t try anything strange.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure thing.” And so he did that, feeling kinda awkward. “I really thought you woulda liked it. I guess I wasn’t looking at it from your perspective.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you weren’t,” Dead End sighed. “Asphyxiation is fine. I’m… into it. But I don’t like being humiliated. I am not a slut.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm,” Drag Strip just hummed, because he kinda disagreed with that sentiment (End loved taking it up the port any time of day) but decided it wisest to not say anything about that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So… You like humiliating people?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rubbed the back of his neck lines. “I guess. I just like feeling better than people. Which I am, to be clear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wildrider is into it, I believe. You should try it with him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Roger that. … Are you okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am a bit better now,” Dead End admitted with a sigh. He removed his straw from his coolant bottle, wiped the end down with a cloth, and placed it into the energon cube to begin to drink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So how do you, like, ask for consent anyway? I dunno how any of this really works.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just ask. Find out what your partner is into. You will need a safe word during interfacing, so either of you can stop it or slow down if you feel uncomfortable. Then, aftercare.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, Breakdown told me about that bit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should really be doing aftercare in non-BDSM settings, you know. Interfacing can run you hot, deplete your fuel and coolant, and tire you out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s BDSM?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bondage/discipline, dominant/submissive, and sadism/masochism.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I um. I only know what half of those words mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll explain it to you later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“End? Can I recharge with you? Just to make sure you’re okay ‘n’ all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked at him and thought for a short while. “Alright.” He polished his cube up and tipped onto the bed, drawing up the blanket and curling into it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drag Strip climbed in next to him and put his front to Dead End’s back, so he could lean his head against his and draw lazy patterns on his waist plating with his thumb. Dead End tensed at first, but found himself able to relax into it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“End?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know I like you, right. I don’t mean any of that stuff or nothing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Do you not think I’m inappropriate? That I have a bit of a reputation?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was Dead End… insecure about his ‘facing habits? Huh. You learn something new every day. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“No </span>
  </em>
  <span>one’s more, uh, inappropriate than Rider, and no one’s got a worse reputation than Motors neither.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... That’s good to hear.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“Dead End,” Motormaster yelled as he tramped into the Stunticon commons. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you or anythin’?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dead End turned away from the can of paint he’d been mixing. “Hm? No, I am fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. And you.” Motormaster grabbed Drag Strip’s head, whose visor went wide and flashed in apparent panic. “You got some explainin’ to do. What did you say to him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He called me slutty,” Dead End said mildly. “That I’m good for nothing other than fragging.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Motormaster punched Drag Strip so hard his visor cracked and he fell backwards onto his aft. “You slaggin’ creep, piece of dumb junkmetal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drag Strip raised his hands. “I’m sorry, Boss! Really!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Breakdown chewed on his fingers as he looked between them. “Um, Motormaster? Please don’t hurt him too badly, okay? I don’t want him to get hurt or have to take a long trip in the medbay, and Megatron will be upset, and I </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> don’t want Megatron to be upset, he’s terrifying when he is and —”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Motormaster grabbed Drag Strip by the arm and hauled him out to the corridor, kicking Breakdown with a toe as he went. Wildrider stared after him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There, after getting another slap from Motormaster that harshed his paint so bad it smeared off of him and dented his helm clips, he had to stand there for four straight hours holding up two steel drums filled with heavy, aching water.</span>
</p>
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